Given my adversarial relationship with gravity, I had no business one day last week being 80 feet up in an 500-year-old bald cypress at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary.

Simply put, I don't like heights, and the higher off the ground I get, the more spooked I get, because I know gravity is just itching to yank me earthward at 32 feet per second per second.

But there I was, being hoisted higher and higher into this very tall tree in a bosun's chair (a seat that's raised and lowered with a block and tackle) until I was eight stories above the forest floor and wondering about the wisdom of my being there when I didn't need to be.

All I needed to do was report on Phase II of an official Explorers Club expedition taking place in the sanctuary — The Explorers Club is an international society that promotes field research and the exploration of land, sea, air and outer space.

Phase I of the expedition, headed by Mike Knight, Southwest Florida regional Explorers Club director, was to map as many giant cypress trees as possible in the sanctuary (a giant cypress is one with a circumference of at least 17 feet). Knight and his team found 60. Phase II was to spend last week making an inventory of all the living organisms on a tall old-growth cypress with a circumference of 14 feet near the boardwalk.

Covering the story didn't require me to leave good old terra firma, but I had a perverse desire to get up in the big tree and shoot video — I had one GoPro camera mounted on a helmet and a second GoPro in my pocket that I planned to drop from the tree to show what a long fall would be like.

Sally Stein, Director of Public Programs at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary scales one of the landmark cypress trees at the swamp in the name of research.(Photo: Andrew West/The News-Press, Andrew West/ The News-Press)

Of course, Knight, Arwood and Wittman are funny guys who said such encouraging things as:

● You don't have to worry about falling; it's the sudden stop that gets you;

● Going up is free, but you have to pay to come down;

● If you need anything, just tell us, but tell us before you need it because if you don't, it'll be too late.

At about 30 feet above the ground, I was ready for the whole thing to be over, but Knight, who is also Corkscrew's resource director, and Arwood kept hoisting me up.

At 60 feet, I dropped the second camera — this is going to be so cool, I thought.

Knight told me to get some lichen samples while I was there; I said I couldn't reach any of the branches, so he and Arwood hoisted me higher, to 65 feet, 70 feet, 75 feet — every time they pulled the rope, the bosun's chair bounced up a few inches, and a nervous jolt went through my guts.

When I got to 80 feet, where I still couldn't reach any branches to get lichen samples, they tied off the rope and let me dangle while they took photographs of me.

According to the online Splat Calculator, if I'd fallen from that height, I would have been in the air for 2.41 seconds before hitting the forest floor at 52.76 mph.

(Photo: Reporter Kevin Lollar, above and top right Mike Knight/Special to The News-Press)

I wasn't aware of those numbers at the time, but I knew a sudden stop at that speed wouldn't be pleasant.

From behind me way down below, Arwood asked me to spin the bosun's chair around so he could get a photograph of my face; spinning around didn't sound like fun, and I wanted to tell him that a photograph of my back would be fine, but I did as he asked, and, for the first time, noticed that the view was absolutely spectacular.

In every direction, up, down and all around, the forest shimmered in various shades of green, depending on how the sunlight filtered through the canopy. Looking up, I could see patches of blue sky and bits of ominous gray clouds; looking down past the tops of smaller trees, I could see a very small Knight pointing his camera at me from an observation platform appropriately called Cuckoo Watch.

Sitting still at 80 feet, I also noticed that I was surrounded by the wonderful swamp sounds of birds, bugs and frogs.

Swamp sounds and a spectacular view, however, didn't make me want to spend the rest of the day up there, and I was actually glad to hear distant thunder, because I figured Knight and Arwood would want to bring me down quickly.

Instead of getting back on the rope, Knight said, "Hey, we're going to lunch; see you in about an hour."

And Wittman told Arwood: "Make sure you get a picture when he gets struck by lightning."

Very funny.

When they finally brought me down, I was totally stoked about having been up in the tree and not coming down at 52.76 mph, and I vowed never to go into a tree in a bosun's chair again.

My adrenaline bubble burst a few hours later when I downloaded the drop camera: I had set it on photograph mode instead of video mode, so all I had was a single still image.

Oh, man, I thought, I really want a drop video.

So I called and explained the situation to Knight, who said I could go back to Corkscrew the next day for another ride in the bosun's chair.

That night, I dreamed about falling out of a very tall tree.

Kevin Lollar
HDR made from 189745 and 189746(Photo:
Ralph Arwood/Special to The News-Press
)